


body and spirit

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Daeron & Lúthien as Siblings, Family Feels, Gen, Mortality v. Immortality, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Lúthien receives an unexpected visitor.





	body and spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elvntari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvntari/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Right Sounds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872539) by [elvntari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvntari/pseuds/elvntari). 

> This is a treat for [elvntari's TRSB19 art piece](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/187426874652/em-cu-always-weak-for-hugs), and heavily inspired by their headcanons and fic! I especially drew from "The Right Sounds" when it came to Lúthien and Daeron's shapeshifting powers :) 
> 
> Language notes: "Fae" and "rhaw" are the Sindarin words for "fëa" and "hröa"; "fana" is the Ainur equivalent of hröa. "Dúlin" is the Sindarin word for "nightingale."
> 
> I didn't intend to write as much about Lúthien's life post-rebirth, but I had a good time. I hope you do too!

Worn out and ready to drift off to sleep, Lúthien almost didn't notice Beren scrambling to his feet and reaching for his sword. It was only when he began to make his way toward the door of their little home that she stirred, careful not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms.

"Beren?" she asked softly. "What is it?"

He glanced backward. "Be still," he murmured. "It's probably nothing—I just thought I heard someone..."

Lúthien cradled Dior closer to her chest, worry pricking her heart. This place was supposed to be secluded, hidden from all dangers—the Laiquendi turned away any who sought after them, and not even her father knew where exactly in Ossiriand she dwelt now. If someone had discovered them, she feared for the peace she and her family had carved out in this isolated land.

Beren opened the door a crack, peering outward, tension apparent in his body. After a moment, he closed it again and turned to Lúthien with a shrug.

"I'm so tired, I must be seeing things," he admitted. "There's nothing but a bird. A nightingale, actually. Maybe your mother's keeping an eye on us."

Lúthien nodded slowly. She was tired—having a child proved to have sapped her strength, though she was not sure if this was normal for every new mother or another side effect of her recent transition to a mortal body—and it took her a few moments to really process what her husband said.

"My mother...?" She blinked. Yes...she and Melian had a connection unsevered even by her altered _rhaw_. The power and fluidity that came with her Ainur heritage had been taken from her upon her return to life, and she was now untethered from the Music of Arda in a way that was indescribable to her elvish kin, but her _fae_ was the same even if its relationship to the world around her was different. She still felt a gentle tug from Doriath that was her mother's love, and knew that Melian watched over her even now.

Her mind now reawakened, she yawned. "Beren, dear, could you hold the baby for a moment?" she asked. "If it is a messenger from Naneth, I would like to speak with it."

Beren took Dior from her, leaving a kiss on her cheek before settling back into his chair. Lúthien paused, watching them for a moment, and a wave of affection washed over her. Yes, this was the man she loved, the child they risked everything to create. Every choice she had made had led here, to this beautiful moment, and she had no regrets.

Well, perhaps one regret...

But no, she would not dwell on loss now. Shoving sad thoughts of her brother from her mind, Lúthien slipped outside, stretching her arms and letting out a contented sigh as her joints popped. Before her mortality she had never felt quite this _achy_ before, though she knew not if that was a trait from her elvish or Maiar ancestry.

"_Dúlin_ of Melian, where have you gone?" she sang softly, searching for the nightingale her husband had spotted. "If you are sent from my mother, I have news for her ears..."

The bird fluttered down from a tree, alighting on her finger. She was surprised she had not sensed it, but then, she was tired, and her eyes were not what they once were...

She smiled at the bird, and then her heart skipped a beat as she took in its copper feathers and the sparkle in its eye. This was no mere messenger—she knew this little bird, had known him all his life. This was always his favorite animal form, and not even the shifting sands of her now-imperfect memory could wash away her recognition of her own brother.

"Daeron?" she asked in a voice that trembled.

The bird chirped like it was laughing, then jumped into the air, flying in a tight circle at a speed so fast the air blurred. Lúthien felt dizzy watching the transformation, though once she had slipped between _fana _as easily as he, and finally understood what was so off-putting about shapeshifting to her elvish friends.

But such concerns were unimportant as her brother's elvish form took shape before her, his eyes already brimming with tears. She wept also, though she was scarcely aware of herself as Daeron took a hesitant step toward her.

He smiled sadly. Lúthien knew him better than any other, save perhaps Beren, and yet now he looked so distant, so separate from the person she had become.

"I thought you had been lost to the world," she whispered.

A shadow passed across his face. "I thought the same of you." He stepped forward, reaching up to brush her cheek. "You look...weary."

Lúthien embraced him, careful not to poke herself with his horns. She breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, and for just a moment she let herself believe that nothing had changed between them.

But it was only for a moment. Daeron stepped back all too soon, looking, if anything, even more melancholy than before.

"I must go," he murmured, not meeting her eyes. "I am sorry for disturbing your hard-won peace. And...I am sorry for everything. I only wanted to see for myself that you were...happy."

"You were trying to protect me," she said, reaching out to grab his arm before he could shift back into his nightingale form. "Even though it's supposed to be my job to protect you, little brother."

Daeron tugged his hand away from her grip gently. "I was a fool. Well, now I will be foolish in the east instead of here. Please, Lúthien..."

"They let me keep my horns," she said, the words spilling out. "They wanted me to choose a form to stay in, when they gave me a _rhaw_, and they told me I would be mortal and could not change it like I could my _fana_. They wanted me to be as—as mortal as possible, though Beren insisted I remain taller than he and of course they couldn't take my face, but—I was going to change my ears, so they were rounded like his, remove my horns, but he spoke out. He told them that to take the signs of my heritage was to rob me of my family. That—that they were already robbing me of them, in spirit, and that I ought to keep these symbols of—of you."

Daeron stared at her. The words rushed out of her: "He said that pointed ears and Maiar horns weren't what made me unequal to him. He said they were what made me connected to my father, my mother, my—my brother."

"You should have lost them," Daeron said huskily. With a wave of his hand, his own horns disappeared. "They are only a way to flaunt our maternity."

"They are part of my _rhaw_ now," Lúthien said. "So much so that..." She stared at him, pleading with her eyes for him to stay, if only for a night. "That my son bears them also."

His breath caught. "Your _son_?"

She reached out a hand. "Come, meet him," she begged. "Please. Beren holds no ill will toward you, and—and Dior ought to see his uncle, if only once."

"He will not remember me," Daeron said, but he let himself be pulled forth.

She smiled, wiping tears from her eyes with the hand that was not clasped in his. "But you will remember him."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/). Check out elvntari's art blog [here](http://em-cu.tumblr.com/), and the TRSB blog [here](http://tolkienrsb.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
